‘Don’t be. I like it.’
She smothered the urge to scream.
He came around the other side of the bed, the mattress dipping heavily, and his arm reached out, creating a warm space for her to slide into.
Nicole allowed her body to meet his and took a moment to soak in the heat and bulk and scent of him. Allowed her cheek to meet the dip of his shoulder, her leg to hook over the sculpted length of his thigh. Her muscles relaxed in such a bone-deep way she almost cried with relief.
After a few moments, she didn’t fight the temptation to run her hands down his tensed stomach and revel in the feel of him as she tilted her head back so her face brushed his stubbled jaw. So he might kiss her more, into the long hours of the night. So all the desire that had been brewing inside her missing him could be satisfied.
His eyes were lambent and dark with the same hunger.
They were inches away.
Nicole brought her bent leg up higher, a soft nudge against that secret part of him, clad in pyjama bottoms. Kyan’s bare chest heaved but he got up on one elbow to lean slightly over her, enough to dip his head and brush his mouth over hers.
‘Nicole,’ he warned, his eyes glittering.
She merely looked beneath her lashes at him.
‘We have ten minutes,’ he murmured.
Right. Because her father or Dylan could come back inside and hear them at any moment.
‘I don’t want just ten minutes,’ Kyan said, the words gravel-rough.
‘I know,’ she whispered, her heart warming. ‘But I do, tonight. I just—’
I need you.
She tugged her shirt, let it slip down her shoulder. He seemed to hold his breath until he took over, hand sliding beneath and up her stomach instead. He kissed her as it went the rest of the way, as that wide, hot palm slid up andup, until he brushed over her breast and she had to force herself to stay quiet.
But it was so difficult—
He squeezed softly, stroked, kissed her cheek and the side of her mouth. Kissed her until the pooling heat between her legs worsened.
‘Kyan,’ she panted against his mouth.
‘I know,’ he said, hand sliding back down her stomach.
He stroked her momentarily between her legs like he couldn’t resist and her body lit up with sensation. She wore nothing beneath her pyjama shorts, and he realised it with a low, pained noise as a moan choked in her throat. She felt sobare. Even now, some part of her was trying to censor the eroticism of the feeling. Andwhy?Why, when it was so pure, so needed, so natural but decadent—
His answering snarl turned into a long, heated kiss.
Some part of her still felt restrained, her awareness of everythingelse still loud. But it narrowed right down with his touch, her stomach bare against his, one breast exposed, his teeth raking over her throat, his heaving chest.
Here, she wasn’t a daughter or a sister. She was a woman of her own.
She could be this sensual and satisfied andsafelydangerous. She was no threat to him. She couldn’t hurt him.
She couldn’t deter him by being herself or showing him what she wanted.
But it still felt forbidden to have his fingers on the soft, barely touched skin of her inner thighs, or the aching curves of her breasts. To have this eager heat pulsing between her legs that she knew he could satisfy.
And then his thick fingers slipped under her shorts,against her.
She breathed against his parted lips, a purring need curling at the back of her throat.
His eyes were feral, his teeth gritted. ‘So wet, Nicole.’
